


Old Fears

by jujus_writing_corner



Series: Whumptober 2020 [18]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Claustrophobia, Flashbacks, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: All the Jim Twins meant to do was pull a harmless prank on Yancy. Instead, they brought back Yancy's worst memories.Whumptober Day 18: Panic! At The DiscoPrompt: Panic Attacks/Phobias
Relationships: Yancy/Illinois
Series: Whumptober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947961
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Old Fears

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't proofread this, so...apologies for mistakes XD
> 
> Enjoy!

Every once in a while, the Jim Twins get the mischievous inclination to prank the other egos.

Nothing serious, nothing harmful, nothing emotionally manipulative. They don’t set up jumpscares or fake their own deaths or do anything malicious. But they’re not above throwing a bath bomb in the washing machine, or putting toothpaste between the two halves on an oreo cookie, or hiding an item belonging to one person in the room of another. While they might cause momentary frustration, they’re forgiven quickly, and never ruin anyone’s day.

Well, usually. The Jims have miscalculated before. But today will be fine! The prank they line up is simple: Once someone walks by their set-up and trips the line, a system of pulleys will go off, pushing them into the hall closet and locking the door behind them. The Jims don’t really know how it works; Bing helped them make it. But regardless, they set their trap up in an often-traveled hallway. Across from the door and the trap, they set up a tiny camera to record what happens, both to see if it works and for humorous posterity. They put a tiny night-vision camera in the closet as well. They don’t intend to keep the person locked in the closet forever, of course; if no one comes by to let them out for a while, the Jims will either do it themselves or ask someone else to do it, depending on who gets trapped. Ed is known to drag the Jims by their ears to Bim to inform him of their misdeeds, so they’ll probably have someone else pull him out of the closet if it happens.

But that doesn’t happen, because not long after they go to their rooms to watch the camera feed on RJ’s laptop, Yancy walks into view.

“Is he gonna…?” asks RJ, vibrating with excitement. CJ watches with equal excitement.

They can see the exact moment Yancy’s foot trips the first wire. He stops and looks down, having felt his foot hit it. That gives the trap’s pulleys enough time to go off, one by one, swinging open the closet door and pushing Yancy in. He yelps as he’s shoved, and the door slams on him and locks as soon as he’s inside.

“Hey!” he yells from the inside. The Jims switch to the feed of the second camera, and watch him jiggle the doorknob and whack the door indignantly. “What the hell?? Lemme out! Whoever did this, youse ass is done for when I get outta here!!”

The Jims can’t help it, they crack up. They laugh so hard that RJ falls out of his chair and CJ snorts hard enough to make his nose feel weird. It takes them a good minute to get themselves under control and return to watching the camera feed, expecting Yancy to be in the process of kicking the door down or cursing up a storm. But he’s doing neither of those things. At first, Yancy just seems bored in there, but the longer the Jims watch, the more concerned they start to get. Eventually, CJ taps RJ’s shoulder to get his attention before signing to him.

_“RJ, I think something’s wrong.”_

~~~

At first, Yancy is angry.

He doesn’t know who set up this stupid prank, but he’s looking forward to throttling them once he gets out of this closet. He tries the doorknob, tries hitting, even tries kicking. But it doesn’t work; the door is locked tight. As far as he knows, no one else was in the hallway, so he’s stuck here for the time being.

Stuck.

In this locked, dark room.

“Ugh, this is stupid,” he mutters, kicking the door one more time for good measure.

So maybe his heart is beating a little faster, maybe his mind is starting to race. But he knows he’s fine, it’s just a closet. This was just a dumb prank that someone pulled on him, and whoever shoved him in here is probably going to let him out in a few minutes. Yancy can deal with a few minutes.

After all, solitary used to last much longer than a few minutes. He’d be in that windowless room for hours, sometimes days. Once it was even two weeks, and Yancy can’t even remember what he did to deserve it. He only remembers the way the days melted together, how each second began to feel like an hour. He remembers counting cracks in the wall, trying in vain to listen to the conversations happening nearby, just to have any mental stimulation at all. By then, he knew better than to make a fuss while in solitary, but his first few trips to that room were marked by screaming and pounding the door until his throat and fists were raw.

Yancy starts to breathe a little faster, a little shallower.

But this closet is not solitary. There’s some items in it, for one thing: A mop, a bucket, some cleaning sprays and gloves. Yancy doesn’t know for sure how any of it looks, because the room is also dark, another difference from solitary. He feels along the wall but finds no light switch. He supposes that makes sense; the closet is too small to warrant a light inside. That’s the last difference between this and solitary: The room for solitary wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to pace around in, at least. This closet is hardly big enough to take a few steps in any direction.

The more Yancy thinks about it, just because this situation is different from solitary doesn’t make it better. He tries the doorknob again. No luck. The room is too dark, it’s too cramped.

“Hey,” he says, trying to put some power and anger into his voice, “Let me out! Lemme outta here right now! When I find out who youse are I’m gonna knock ya into next Tuesday, I swear!!”

_“Don’t make threats like that,”_ says a voice in the back of his mind, unbidden, _“The guards don’t like that, it’ll only make them keep you here longer.”_

Yancy shakes his head, trying to dispel the thought. This isn’t solitary. This isn’t solitary. But the room is so dark he’s forced to imagine what he sees. He tries the door again. He whacks it with his hand.

“Let me out of here,” he gasps, words coming out softer and weaker than he intended to.

It’s too dark in here. He can’t see anything at all. It’s too enclosed. Yancy can hardly move. He can’t even pace. The room is too small, too hard to see through. He tries the door again. And again. He hits it. He hits it again. His breathing gets shallower, his heart beats faster. He grabs the sides of his head, trying to get a grip. He staggers backwards, lightheaded, but bumps into the bucket and nearly falls over. The room is so small that the arm he throws out to catch himself hits the wall and keeps himself standing. A whimper escapes his throat.

This isn’t solitary. This is worse.

With sudden ferocity, Yancy throws himself at the door, pounding relentlessly.

“Lemme out!!” he screams, “Lemme out, please! This ain’t funny anymore, get me out! Out, please, I have to get out–”

His words are cut off by his own sob. He slides down against the door as tears keep coming. He doesn’t want to cry, the guards always make fun of him for crying. But he can’t make them stop. He knows he’ll be in even more trouble for causing a fuss, and it only makes him cry harder. He can’t even remember what he did. What did he do? Why is he stuck here?? But it doesn’t really matter, he knows that. He crawls to the back of the closet to sit in the back, staring at the door, crying and waiting for the guards to let him out.

It happens sooner than he thinks it will. The door opens, and Yancy blinks against the light. He hurriedly wipes his face, trying to remove the evidence of tears from his face, despite still crying. It takes him a moment to realize that the door hasn’t opened to Happy Trails, that it’s not a guard or Warden Murderslaughter who’s opened the door.

The open door shows a hallway of Ego Inc. Standing in the doorway is Illinois, panting a little like he ran to get here, eyes full of fear and worry.

Yancy starts crying harder again.

“Oh, angel,” Lio murmurs, coming into the closet to pull Yancy into his arms, “You’re alright, Yancy, you’re safe. You’re in Ego Inc., you’re home. I’m right here.” He stands, pulling Yancy up with him. “C’mon, let’s get out of this closet.”

Yancy lets Lio put an arm around him and lead him out of the closet. That’s when Yancy realizes Lio isn’t the only one who’s come here; the Jims are standing in the hallway, nervously looking at Yancy, sadness and guilt written all over their faces. Yancy wipes his face again, trying to stop his tears. He hates crying in front of people, he hates being weak. He feels Lio kiss his temple and squeeze his shoulders before hearing him address the Jims.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he says icily.

“We have, Adventure Jim!” RJ exclaims. Yancy takes his hands away from his face in time to see CJ nod in agreement.

“Anything else you want to say?” Lio asks.

The twins look down nervously, then look at Yancy, eyes big and sad.

“We’re sorry, Prison Jim,” RJ says earnestly, “We didn’t know you’d get so upset. It…It was supposed to be a silly prank. ”

_“We didn’t mean to hurt you,”_ CJ signs, _“We’re really, really sorry.”_

The Jims did this. They were the ones who locked him in that godforsaken closet. For a prank.

A rush of anger, of shame, of embarrassment cuts through Yancy’s lingering panic. He’s lunging out of Lio’s hold and punching RJ in the face before he can think twice about it. RJ cries out and stumbles back, hands coming up to his now-bleeding nose. CJ grabs him to keep from falling over at the same time Lio puts an arm in front of Yancy to keep him from punching again.

“Hey! Hey,” Lio says, keeping his voice steady and calming, “That’s enough, Yancy, they didn’t know any better. Let’s get out of here, alright?”

Yancy’s burst of anger fades quickly, leaving him exhausted. There’s suddenly nothing he wants to do more. He lets Lio lead him away, not bothering to look back at the Jims. He doesn’t regret punching RJ, but he doesn’t feel self-righteous about it either. He’s just tired and trembling and still crying just a little.

Lio takes Yancy to Yancy’s own bedroom. Yancy’s bedroom is not like solitary at all, and it’s not like the closet, either. Lio turns the light on and closes the door, but doesn’t lock it from the inside. Yancy sits on his bed, lets the familiar feeling start to ground him. The theater posters on his wall help, too. But most helpful is Lio, who comes to sit beside him. He puts an arm around Yancy again, kisses his hair.

“I’ll stay here as long as you need, alright?” he murmurs, “Whatever you want from me, I’ll do, sweetheart.”

All Yancy wants is to bury his face in Lio’s chest, and for Lio to wrap his arms around him in the only tight space that doesn’t make Yancy afraid.

So Yancy does, and Lio does, and they stay that way for a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment! They absolutely make my day :'3


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